


Firsts (But Not Lasts)

by irisbleufic



Series: Meant to Be Here [2]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Banter, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Past, Demisexuality, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Jewish Character, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Neurodiversity, New Relationship, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Past Abuse, Post-Coital Cuddling, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Negotiation, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, Touch-Starved, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: At half past eleven, Dirk’s mobile lit up with a text, and Todd mumbled that his stomach hurt.Dirk recognized Farah’s number, but the message was hidden. “I’ll fetch us something,” he said.Todd watched him dress, amused at Dirk's perfunctory job of it. “Commando, huh? No socks?”“Shut up,” Dirk said, half-buttoning his wrinkled shirt. “Who needs pants to make a sandwich?”“But you're wearing—” Todd huffed into the pillows, remembering “—trousers. Never mind.”





	Firsts (But Not Lasts)

**An Absolute Crime**

Dirk was never going to tire of the sight before him, not as long as he lived. And there’d been a time when he’d hoped he _wouldn’t_ live long, at least not in those particular circumstances.  He put the memory out of his head, resting his cheek against Todd's thigh.

Todd was already breathing shallowly, maybe because Dirk had spent a bit too much time on foreplay. He looked cozy sitting against Dirk’s pile of pillows, but rather desperate for more than the light, exploratory touches Dirk was giving him.

Burying his face against Todd’s belly, Dirk lapped at his navel. He was propped on his elbows, stretched out on the bed, instead of kneeling. As much as he liked the idea of doing this the scandalous way, his newly-healed leg couldn’t withstand much pressure.

“What’s really a crime,” Todd groused, soft and strained, “is that you won’t hurry the fuck up.”

Dirk pressed one more kiss just beneath Todd’s belly button and kissed the underside of his cock next, deciding the hint of brattiness deserved comeuppance. He licked the spot, eager to observe what the effect would be.

Todd whimpered, dragging his fingers from Dirk’s shoulders to his nape. “ _Asshole_.”

Blinking up at him in mock-dismay, Dirk batted his eyelashes and didn’t feel the least bit silly.

“I’m sorry, but did you actually _want_ me to do this?” he asked, licking his lower lip.

Todd closed his eyes, letting his head loll back against the wall. “Just— _yeah_. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dirk sighed happily, licking from his first point of contact up to the tip. “Here?”

“Anywhere,” Todd managed, his tone high and anxious. “All I care’s that you don’t choke—”

“I’ve researched optimal procedures, thank you,” Dirk said teasingly, and then took pity on him, replicating what Todd had done that night in the truck. Soft, clean skin on his tongue. Salt-trace bolder and brighter than tears.

What Dirk hadn’t expected was how distractingly turned-on he got during, or how close Todd’s cry sounded to pain. For a split second, he wondered if sensory overload had triggered one of Todd’s episodes, but— _no_. Todd’s shaking thighs gave him away.

“Shit,” Dirk gasped, pulling off after he’d swallowed his first taste, kissing a shockingly messy trail up Todd’s chest. “That is _so_ hot.”

Todd jerked forward again, harder this time, each heave of his chest against Dirk’s a sharp thrill.

“Dammit,” he said, finally slumping back into the pillows, chin tucked over Dirk’s shoulder.

“No, don’t you dare,” said Dirk, pressing against Todd’s hip in feverish elation. “You’re fine.”

Todd wrapped his legs around Dirk, anchoring him. That was all it was ever going to take.

 _I’ll live for this_ , Dirk thought, letting Todd kiss him to completion. _For us._

 

**Terms of Endearment**

Todd knew that weeks without an attack had been too much to ask. Each low-humming phantasm felt like the real thing, each sting a jolt of poison. His throat constricted, evidence that every cell in him believed this was the end.

“Dirk,” he said, dropping the dish towel, sinking to the floor in shock, “I’m allergic.”

“Sorry, but that won’t work, because I happen to know this washing-up liquid is hypo—” Dirk whirled around, plate slipping from his grasp, eyes desperately wide as he realized what was happening. “Oh _no_. No no no—”

“You,” Todd choked, clawing at Dirk’s damp forearms as Dirk hauled him back against his chest, “you have to tell me if it’s…” He blinked at the ceiling, struggling to articulate his next thought. “Are they real or…”

“Not real,” Dirk said, voice taut with panic as he hugged Todd closer than ever. “I’d have noticed a swarm of bees, don’t you think? I, _ah_ , wouldn’t advise using your sister’s trick to manifest the real thing.”

“Good,” Todd gritted out, clinging to Dirk as the frequency of stings intensified, “because I’m really—like, I mean _really_ bad, there was this one time I stepped on a honeybee when I was a kid, and my parents had to take me to the—”

“Don’t tell me about a time you almost died!” Dirk snapped, fighting tears. “I’ve seen enough!”

Todd wheezed, his laughter ghastly above the dull, constant buzz in his ears. “You think?”

Dirk made a sound that was somehow far worse than all the times Todd had heard him get shot.

“Stay with me, darling,” he whispered, voice broken and lips bloodied— _wait_. Not real.

Todd’s lungs flooded with air that was soundless except for Dirk’s muffled, hiccupping sobs.

“It’s…okay, it’s gone,” Todd panted, running his sweat-slick palms up and down Dirk’s arms.

“That was _wildly_ not on,” said Dirk, dark and bitter, clasping Todd that much tighter.

Todd tipped his head back against Dirk’s shoulder, tugging one of Dirk’s hands up to his cheek.

“Did you know,” he said, kissing Dirk’s dish-soapy skin, “that you kinda just called me…”

“I bloody well do,” Dirk replied, faint with relief. “You’re darling, and you _are_ mine.”

 

**Caught In the Act**

Dirk had decided that keeping Todd in bed, safe and distracted, was the way forward. They’d slept through most of the evening after his attack.

They’d also had a lie-in, awakened starving, and decided that slow, drowsy sex was more satisfying than breakfast.

At half past eleven, Dirk’s mobile lit up with a text, and Todd mumbled that his stomach hurt.

Dirk recognized Farah’s number, but the message was hidden. “I’ll fetch us something,” he said.

Todd watched him dress, amused at Dirk's perfunctory job of it. “Commando, huh? No socks?”

“Shut up,” Dirk said, half-buttoning his wrinkled shirt. “Who needs pants to make a sandwich?”

“But you're wearing—” Todd huffed into the pillows, remembering “—trousers. Never mind.”

Dirk shoved his mobile in his back pocket, bent down to kiss Todd, and left the bedroom. He wasn’t fussed about Farah's text; it probably meant she was on layover somewhere suitably fascinating and full of case-bearing potential.

Alone in the kitchenette, halfway into a pair of peanut-butter-and-jellies on honey wheat, Dirk heard a key turn in the door downstairs. Footfalls and the drag of a suitcase followed, mocking Dirk's erstwhile conclusion.

Setting the knife aside, Dirk cleared his throat, put on a brave face, and swiftly turned around.

Frozen in the doorway, Farah looked him up and down like she might do a complete stranger.

“Your hair,” she explained after several gob-smacked seconds. “That’s definitely a statement.”

Dirk tried to finger-comb it into some semblance of order, but he knew it was likely a lost cause.

“Todd had an episode last night,” he explained, eyes on the floor. “We didn’t sleep much.”

Farah broke into a patronizing smile, came over, and gave him an awkward clap on the shoulder.

“It’s great to be home,” she said, turning the gesture into a hug at the last second. “Missed you.”

Dirk patted Farah’s back and pulled away, resuming his task, but not without steeling his resolve.

“Fine,” he said, closing the jar of grape Smucker’s with a vindictive twist before setting it decisively aside. “I’ve been shagging Todd all morning, and I plan to get back to it right after lunch. Happy?”

“As long as you are,” Farah said, yanking open the fridge. “Airline food sucks. I’m starving.”

As Dirk turned from the counter with plate in hand, Todd wandered in wearing boxers and Dirk’s undershirt. They exchanged furtive glances while Farah, blithely unconcerned, rummaged through questionable leftovers.

“Shagging me,” Todd echoed, eliciting a punchy snort from Farah. “Austin Powers much?”

“I’m not exactly a spy,” Dirk said, determined to salvage his pride, “but I _do_ love you.”

 

**Misplaced Martyrdom**

Between Farah being back and Dirk having just demonstrated some _serious_ experimental fingering prowess, Todd felt all was right with the world.

“You’re way too good at that for never having done it to anybody,” he said exhaustedly. “Not that I knew what to expect.”

“For a god of the Seattle mid-2000s alt scene, or however Tina put it,” replied Dirk, distantly, sounding as if he hadn’t gotten his brain back online, “you didn’t get around much. That’s not to say that I _expect_ you would’ve conformed to that kind of rock-and-roll stereotype, because, actually, I don’t. You’re intense, pensive, and plagued by self-doubt—but you shouldn’t be. You are completely amazing. There has never been another person, not in thirty-three years, who’s made me want to—” he let his lips brush against Todd’s “—do _this_.”

“I had songs to write, lies to tell, and my consuming sense of guilt to worry about,” Todd sighed.

Dirk shushed him and smiled, so disarmingly sweet that Todd decided to stop beating himself up.

“Remember what you promised me while we were on our hole-digging spree?” he cautioned.

Todd nodded, shifting closer so he could rest his head against Dirk’s scarred right shoulder.

“I love you, and I meant what I said,” he told Dirk. “Also, I’m pretty sure I want you to fuck me.”

Dirk flung an arm over him, nuzzling Todd’s hair. “Better if I go first,” he murmured, “when the time comes, I mean. You seemed tense.”

“Was not,” Todd protested, loose-limbed, curling into him. “Nice try, but I’ve got this. At least we know my pain threshold’s pretty high.”

Rather than respond in any easily-interpreted manner, Dirk stiffened slightly before kissing him.

“Correction. We know mine,” he said, pointedly stern, “and in an incredibly practical sense.”

As first, Todd thought he meant all the recent arrows and bullets he’d taken, but _then_ —

“Dirk,” he whispered, brushing one of the scars on Dirk’s back that he didn't recognize. “Shit.”

Dirk shrugged into Todd’s embrace. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “It’s years behind me now.”

“So? I still wanna send Farah in there to take out every last Blackwing agent,” Todd seethed.

“No need,” said Dirk, sleepily, rearranging the covers over both of them. “Bart took care of it.”

“Guess that means Mona’s mission was successful,” Todd sighed. “At least she talks to _you_.”

“Give it time,” Dirk said, brushing his lips against Todd’s temple. “She can be wayward at first.”

Todd ran his fingers from Dirk’s shoulder blade to his side, recalling another faint, raised line.

“Some of you bonded,” he ventured, “and some of you didn’t? You never knew Bart until later.”

“Some of us got around more than others,” Dirk said quietly. “Todd, when I said I had no one...”

“You have Mona and Farah and Amanda,” Todd soothed, stroking Dirk’s hair. “You have me.”

Dirk nodded, relaxing against Todd. “I’ve lost the plot of our argument,” he said with chagrin.

“It wasn’t an argument,” replied Todd, reassuringly, “and it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” said Dirk, his voice still soft, but he smiled against Todd’s forehead in grateful relief.


End file.
